


The Slings and Arrows of Outrageous Fortune

by SpaghettiCanActivist



Series: A King Who Placed Mirrors in His Palace [6]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Minor Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla, Parental Hera Syndulla, motherly hera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 17:15:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16644416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaghettiCanActivist/pseuds/SpaghettiCanActivist
Summary: A simple mission doesn't go as planned. Hera's left trying to find a way out that will keep both her and their youngest member alive. In the end, guilt weighs heavy.





	The Slings and Arrows of Outrageous Fortune

They were pinned down, Imperials on one side shooting and the locals on the other with their archaic weapons, trying to approach. The only thing Hera could think was any good about the situation was the fact that the locals and Imperials were going after each other as much as they were coming after her and Ezra.

Why did a simple planetary run have to be so complicated? She’d told herself, just a quick stop, no big deal, you’ll enjoy getting off the ship and Ezra would get to stretch his legs while Zeb and Kanan worked on doing routine maintenance on the Ghost. What could go wrong?

Everything apparently, Hera thought dryly, stepping out from behind the tree she was using as cover to take out the rapidly approaching native Hungan. The Hungan dropped like a rock from her blaster shot, the primitive bow in its hand falling to the floor.

“Hera?!” Ezra was looking at her imploringly, asking for a miracle.

Hera would give him a miracle if she were in her bloody ship, but she wasn’t and she had a blaster and a padawan and maybe three hundred meters of open forest until she met with cliff side. They weren’t exactly looking at a lot of options here.

“What?!” Hera yelled back.

He was at a tree a couple meters away, shooting at the Imperials with his peculiar lightsaber.

“What are we gonna do?!” He yelled, ducking behind his tree as an arrow whizzed by.

Ezra usually asked dumb questions, things like ‘do I have to practice today?, ‘can you really smell me?” to Sabine, and that one time about when two people love each other very much. Hera wished he hadn’t picked now as the time to start asking intelligent questions, especially as she didn’t really have an answer for them.

“I’m thinking!” She yelled back.

She’d called Kanan and Zeb who had claimed they were on their way, but that it might be a little bit. A little bit might mean the difference between them becoming kebabs or them continuing on in their rebel ways. 

Her shots weren’t keeping the Imperials at bay and Ezra’s weren’t doing much better. Ducking from out behind her tree she moved back, losing another few meters of what lay between them and the cliff side.

Ezra came bounding over and joined her at the rather thick tree she’d chosen as cover.

“We last until Zeb and Kanan get here, that’s the plan,” Hera said.

“What if we don’t last until they get here?” Ezra asked, ducking out again to shoot at one of the Hungans.

“Let’s just say that my provisional plan involves us at the wrong end of a blaster,” Hera replied, taking out another Hungan.

The Imperials had backed off somewhat, but the Hungans didn’t seem to be particularly deterred by the blaster shots and they kept swarming forward. Hera kept an eye on her side and hoped that Ezra was keeping an eye on his.

The Hungans were pressing in and not far behind were the Imperials. Hera dodged back behind the tree, breathless and reloading her blaster. She noticed Ezra slumped against the tree, she went back to reloading her blaster but did a double take. 

“Ezra?” She said.

Ezra lifted his head, face pale and eyes wide. Hera looked closer and saw something long and narrowly tubular protruding from Ezra's middle, his hands clasped around it. Hera started to panic when she saw the blood blooming around what she now recognized as an arrow, staining his orange jumper.

Hera's attention to Ezra had cost them, a Hungan rounding the tree with an axe in hand. Hera scrambled with her blaster and fired. The creature collapsed, almost falling on Hera and Ezra. Hera shoved the body to the side. They really, really needed to get out of here.

“Hera,” Ezra’s voice was weak and shaky, “I don’t feel good.”

Hera wanted to reassure him, she really did, but the situation was beginning to feel hopeless.

“C’mon, we’re going to get you out of here,” Hera said, pulling Ezra up and placing his arm around her shoulder.

Ezra grew paler and she could feel his trembling. 

“Do you think you can walk?” Hera asked.

Ezra managed a nod and Hera felt pride in her youngest crew member. They stood and Hera, with one look behind her and her fingers figuratively crossed that Imperial lack of accuracy was contagious, began hauling Ezra as fast as she could toward the cliff side.

The moments seemed to flicker by painfully slow, Ezra's soft gasps of breath, Hera's own labored breathing, the shouts behind them and the harsh rapport of laser shots echoing overwhelmingly in each second.

“Just a little farther,” Hera haggardly whispered.

A little farther to where though? They had the cliff side, a thousand meter drop to a craggy ravine of instantaneous death and the burning question from Hera's childhood of if her cursed tutor Gushil would greet her in Hell.

“Hera,” Ezra whispered, the sound pained.

Hera turned her head and barely had a chance to glance at Ezra's glazed eyes before she was left with dead weight. Hera cursed as she had to take most of Ezra's weight, their awkward tumbling run coming to an abrupt halt. A moment later she felt a blaster shot graze, or at least she hoped that was all the damage it'd done, her calf and went to her knee.

The shouts were growing louder and the blaster shots deafening. Hera bit her tongue, fighting past the pain in her calf. She was not going to die here and neither was Ezra.

Pulling Ezra's arm completely over her shoulders, Hera hauled the boy up and continued moving forward. Hope was forced to live by way of sheer determination. It faltered though as they came to the cliff edge. Hera stared out, lips thinning. Ezra was barely conscious and unable to hold himself up. They had a lethal jump in front of them and a group of individuals with death on their mind behind them.

Maybe it was the end.

Hera scanned the horizon and gave a tight nod.

“Hold on Ezra,” Hera said, adjusting her grip on Ezra so he was held in front of her, head lolling against her chest.

As the Imperials approached along with the Hogans, Hera stepped backwards, free falling with Ezra clutched tightly to her. The wind whistled sharply, her stomach tightening and revolting against the sensation.

As seconds passed the floor of the ravine swiftly approached. Hera clenched her eyes shut, begging under her breath for her estimation to have been accurate.

A moment later, the sharp rocks coming ever closer, she heard over the rushing wind the sound of the Ghost and then felt that familiar tug which she knew to be Kanan using the Force.

They were lifted into the door and then dropped. Hera took the brunt of the weight, Ezra still clutched to her chest.

“Hera!”

Hera ignored Kanan’s worried call and instead started to roll over, carefully depositing Ezra on the floor. She did not have the strength to move him.

“What happened?” Zeb asked. “That was a heck of a call in.”

Kanan was stepping closer.

“Wait, what’s wrong?”

Hera’s head was spinning and her stomach was still clenching from the fall. Kanan’s question was answered several seconds later as he approached. There was a gasp and then Kanan was on his knees next to Ezra.

“Zeb, it’s Ezra, he needs to get to the medbay right now.”

Hera appreciated the command, that someone was taking charge while she was just still trying to breathe. She watched as Zeb lifted Ezra up like he was a small doll. Hera felt spacey. Ezra was really just a kid. Kanan was in her face then, brow scrunched up with worry.

“Hera? Hera?!” Kanan was reaching a hand out.

Hera batted it away, sitting up and forcing her brain to pull out of the shock it was wanting to fall into.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, standing up and then immediately regretting it as her injured leg protested the movement.

Kanan moved to help, hand going to her elbow to steady her. Hera moved away.

“I’m fine,” she snapped.

She was glad that Kanan knew her well enough to not take offense. Instead his face settled in resignation, a small nod dismissing himself. 

“Alright,” he acquiesced. “I’ll meet you in the medbay.”

Hera didn’t meet his eyes but she let her chin tilt down to show she’d heard. Limping toward her room, Hera ignored Kanan’s distant hovering. When she finally arrived, she felt a small pleased sense of control as the door slid shut and Kanan’s figure disappeared from sight. Settling on the bed with stiff and heavy movements, Hera let out a deep breath. She ran her fingers from the top of her leku to the ends, a movement she’d learned as a child to help center herself. Her breathing slowed down and the adrenaline which had been pumping through her slowly dispersed to be replaced by exhaustion.

With careful hands she pulled her boot off and her pant leg up. The wound wasn’t bad, a graze like she’d originally thought, but it still hurt. Slowly she tended to it. When Hera finished she stood and made her way to the medbay. 

Ezra was out on a table, Sabine was standing over him and Kanan was at the foot of the bed with a frown on his face. There wasn’t, despite the general misery in the room, the tension that accompanied a dire or precarious injury. Ezra would be fine. Hera wanted to ask, but both Kanan and Sabine looked preoccupied.

Stepping away, Hera’s mind began wandering and in its wandering it sought comfort. Unconsciously Hera made her way to the cockpit.

Zeb was in the pilot chair, Chopper nearby and both of them uncharacteristically silent and attentive to their tasks. Hera walked to the end and leaned against the co-pilot chair, appreciating the relief it offered her leg. Zeb looked up.

“Hey Hera,” he said in a gruff voice, one subdued and more quiet than usual.

“Sabine still with Ezra?” Zeb asked.

Hera gave a nod. Zeb was surprisingly tender, his worry making him softer and less rough. Hera knew he cared, but sometimes she forgot how much.

“I’m gonna go check on ‘em,” Zeb said, standing and excusing himself.

Hera then took her seat in the pilot’s chair. It was familiar and comforting. Ezra had almost died today, under Hera’s charge. He had been in her charge, hers, and he’d almost died. It was easy to forget that she was only ten years older, in an easy life that was nothing, hardly a difference, but in war, in the life she’d lived, ten years was a lifetime. She should’ve known, or should’ve done something different.

Hera let out a sigh and shook her head. She didn’t have the answers to everything, and sometimes, sometimes you couldn’t account for everything. Still, Ezra had almost died.

The door opened and footsteps sounded out, the tread familiar. It was Kanan. Hera didn’t turn around to face him, instead listened to him and then saw him sit down when he entered her periphery.

“What happened?” Kanan didn’t sound accusing, or mad, or angry, just, tired.

“We knew about the unfriendly locals, not so much the unfriendly troopers.”

Kanan’s eyes widened in surprise.

“There were Imperials there?”

“Yeah, and they seemed to know about us being there.”

Something they were going to have to investigate further. Still, they had survived, that was what mattered, right? Kanan was silent and so was Hera, the lack of words filling the cockpit and spreading across the minutes.

“Sabine said he’d be fine, Ezra, he’ll need a bit to recuperate because of our rather outdated medical supplies, but he’ll live.”

“Good,” Hera replied.

Kanan let out a soft, nearly inaudible, sigh.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Hera looked sharply over at Kanan, annoyed at how he seemed to read her mind. The soft, understanding expression just made her more irked.

“I know,” she said a little too quickly and a little too sharply.

Kanan didn’t get mad.

“I know you know,” he said lightly, leaning back in the co-pilot seat.

Hera still felt annoyed, because what did Kanan know? He hadn’t been there, hadn’t turned around to see Ezra bleeding, bright blue eyes staring up at him begging for help, begging for the pain and confusion to be taken away. What did Kanan know?

“When we first met the Inquisitor, I almost lost him.”

Hera nearly looked over in surprise at Kanan.

“I mean,” Kanan’s voice was kind of shaking. “One, just one bad block, one misjudged jump, and, well, you don’t walk away from a lightsaber wound.”

Hera felt her anger, her annoyance, and her frustration float away. She looked over at Kanan and saw a familiar gleam in his eye. Maybe, maybe he did know.

“Every time I go into a fight with the kind of guys we face, I just am always thinking, if something happens to this kid, it’s on me.”

Kanan stopped, he shook his head and his jaw tightened. 

He looked over to Hera, understanding in his eyes that she could appreciate and acknowledge.

“He’s alive Hera, because of you.”


End file.
